Chapter Seventeen: The Bodhisattva Green Tara

That day, I video-called Yang Yue and asked, “How did the examination at the Nanjing hospital go this time?”

Yang Yue shook her head, a trace of helplessness flickering in her eyes, but she spoke calmly: “The results from the Nanjing hospital two days ago weren’t good. The doctor advised me to transfer to a big hospital in Shanghai immediately. They said my illness has reached a critical point, and my life could be in danger at any moment.”

Yet Yang Yue has always been optimistic; otherwise, she wouldn’t have resisted the illness for so long. The Jade Emperor had once told her that only through rigorous spiritual cultivation could she survive.

That afternoon two days ago, Yang Yue set up a divination chart for herself and shared it in a Qimen Dunjia group for consultation. Soon, someone responded beneath her post.

Wang Kun: “I just got off work and saw the chart you laid out. Qimen has nine palaces, but all the issues in your chart are concentrated in one grid. Everyone around you is out to get you. Each person who tries to help ends up being dragged down by you. There’s a force preventing your salvation, and it’s very powerful.”

Seeing a glimmer of hope, Yang Yue immediately replied.

Yang Yue: “What should I do now?”

Wang Kun: “My master lives in Qiaocheng. He’s a Buddhist layman. If possible, I hope you can come over.”

So Yang Yue made a bold decision. She postponed the trip to the Shanghai hospital and headed to Qiaocheng, even giving Wang Kun her phone number, promising to arrive promptly.

Wang Kun told Yang Yue that the fifth-to-last digit of her phone number was a 2, which signified fatal danger.

Phone numbers, house numbers, and license plates all carry numerical energies that reflect a person's circumstances.

Since they had to depart early the next morning for Qiaocheng, Yang Yue went to bed early that night. In a drowsy state, a man entered her room. His eyes were cold and expressionless, clad in black armor. In his large hand, he carried a long hooked weapon. The hook’s tip shimmered faintly green, sharp and ominous. The blood groove on the hook was stained dark red, clearly having claimed countless lives. With a heavy thud, the deadly hook slammed onto Yang Yue’s bedside table.

Frightened, Yang Yue sat up immediately. “...It’s you.”

She recognized the man as someone she had fought in the divine realm. He had lost to her then, but now it was clear he had come seeking revenge. Her intuition told her the hook was extremely dangerous, its poison potent enough to kill even a Great Dao Immortal.

Yang Yue lowered her pride and spoke earnestly, coaxing him until the tall man’s sullen expression softened, and the murderous gleam in his eyes faded. “Hmph, I’ll let you live this time. Seeing your frail mortal body, it wouldn’t be honorable for a man like me to kill you.”

“Yes, yes, your magnanimity spares this humble woman. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“Good that you understand.” With that, the man vanished into the darkness.

Yang Yue opened her eyes and immediately told Teacher Xing about the visitor. Surprisingly, Xing hadn’t noticed anything. While they discussed the matter, Xing’s peripheral vision caught a small ghostly figure peeking and eavesdropping at the door.

Upon being discovered, the little ghost tried to escape by burrowing into the wall. Xing flicked his hand, and a golden sword flew out. Just as the ghost’s head entered the wall, its neck and body were severed cleanly by the sharp blade.

“What was that?” Yang Yue asked, still unclear about what had just happened.

Xing approached and collected the ghost’s remains into a large cauldron to be incinerated. His brows furrowed deeply, and his eyes darkened. “A little ghost, probably sent by a hidden force to spy on us.”

Though there had been a minor incident, both were seasoned veterans and dismissed it before going to sleep.

The departure day was July 7th—a day marked by change, as sevens symbolize uncertainty.

At the high-speed rail station, when Xing checked his phone, his heart skipped a beat. The ticket displayed July 17th, not July 7th as they had thought. Neither he nor Yang Yue had noticed the mistake earlier.

Yang Yue felt that this was exactly the force Wang Kun mentioned, trying to block her from getting help. The more resistance, the more certain she was that she was on the right path.

Ultimately, they found a way to reach Qiaocheng and met Wang Kun at the arranged spot. Wang Kun was about thirty-five or thirty-six, thin and unremarkable in appearance, looking much older than his age. His face bore the weariness of hardship, clearly reflecting a life of poverty. As a comedian once joked, “It’s not that you’re bad at playing the erhu; it’s just that I look too pitiful.”

Xing’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed Yang Yue’s wrist and whispered in her ear, “This is Li Longji—”

Li Longji?

Yang Yue immediately thought of “Me.” When she told me about it, I was also moved; never had I imagined Li Longji’s current life would be so miserable.

Xing discerned that Wang Kun’s true form was that of a divine dragon who had committed a grave mistake in the divine realm. His celestial soul was cast down by the Jade Emperor to suffer punishment in the mortal world. This life was marked by poverty and sorrow.

After bringing them here, Wang Kun had to return to work and left.

It’s worth mentioning that Wang Kun’s previous incarnation was Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty, and now he was a delivery worker, diligently supporting his family every day without fail.

Wang Kun’s master’s dharma name is Daoyuan, about the same age as Wang Kun. Everyone calls him Master Daoyuan.

Xing and Yang Yue were surprised to find that Daoyuan resembled the True Martial Emperor worshipped in their temple by seven or eight parts. Yang Yue and Xing exchanged glances and recognized Daoyuan as the eldest son of the True Martial Emperor—in other words, Xu Xiaoqian’s eldest brother in the divine realm.

Daoyuan politely invited them to sit. During their conversation, he shared that his father-in-law had devoted his life to studying the I Ching. When Daoyuan’s business failed and he was out of work, his father-in-law passed on all his knowledge of the I Ching to him. Over time, Daoyuan became skilled and eventually opened this feng shui company.

Xing also revealed his true identity as the leader of Mount Kunlun.

Daoyuan’s expression remained calm. Being part of the metaphysical world, he understood that some things, though sounding like fairy tales, were in fact the truth.

Daoyuan then told a story that surprised both Yang Yue and Xing: “Since childhood, I’ve seen a Taoist carrying a sword come down from the mountain in my mind. I’ve always called him master. Whenever I faced danger, he would appear in my thoughts to communicate with me. But I never saw his face clearly. The contact ceased for many years until last night, when I finally saw his face. He told me he is the leader of Mount Kunlun and that he would come to meet me early tomorrow morning.”

The master Daoyuan had always seen in his mind was actually Xing’s primordial spirit.

At that moment, a tall warrior clad in golden armor suddenly appeared beside Daoyuan—this was Daoyuan’s primordial spirit.

With a gentle lift of his hand, Xing placed his primordial spirit into Daoyuan’s body. Just as the spirit was settled, a sword and divine realm clothing and shoes descended from the sky. Xing instructed Daoyuan to keep these items safe.

Using the I Ching, Daoyuan divined Yang Yue’s physical condition and solemnly told her, “Your abdomen is like an invisible black abyss, continuously absorbing demons and evil spirits, causing the pain in your chest. Inside your belly, gods and ghosts are fighting fiercely. It’s a constant struggle—sometimes the east wind overwhelms the west, and sometimes the west overpowers the east.”

After some thought, Daoyuan added, “I have a student from the northeast who learned the I Ching at my company. He’s currently a shaman in the northeast, one of the more capable ones. Your temple is even more powerful than shamans, but as the saying goes, ‘The doctor who heals others cannot heal himself.’ You and Yang Yue are so close that your energy fields have become entangled, causing confusion. Some things you shouldn’t do yourself.”

Yang Yue and Xing agreed to consult Daoyuan’s former student.

Daoyuan contacted the young northeastern shaman via video. The shaman was young, refined, and scholarly-looking. They paid him two hundred yuan as an offering to help investigate what was afflicting Yang Yue.

After a while, the shaman replied, “I just asked the spirits here about your condition. You have a lot going on—both good and bad. Let me first mention the good. Do you have a grandmother? She was a cultivator who lived a vegetarian life and would vomit if she ate meat. After she passed, her spirit has been protecting you. Also, you have a lot of fluid accumulation near your heart. You haven’t suddenly died because many weasels have come to repay their debts to you by absorbing the fluid around your heart.”

Weasels repaying debts?

Yang Yue thought for a moment and recalled that when she was a child, she once saw many skinned weasel carcasses in the grass. Someone was skinning weasels to sell, and the bodies were discarded. Feeling sad, she had brought a shovel from home and buried them nearby.

It turned out those weasels had been protecting her out of gratitude.

The shaman then asked, “Do you have a former husband?”

At the mention of that ex-husband, Yang Yue’s tone darkened slightly. “Yes.”

The shaman continued, “Your ex-husband hates you for divorcing him, you know? He hired someone to cast a curse on you. The curse won’t kill you but will paralyze you. Are your toes starting to go numb?”

Yang Yue had always thought the numbness in her limbs was due to fluid pressing on her heart. It was actually her ex-husband’s doing.

Her ex, Li Qiang, was a despicable scoundrel who cheated on her long ago. After a fierce argument, she decisively divorced him. She never expected his hatred would drive him to try to paralyze her.

“Besides that, you have over eighty immortals absorbing your yang energy. Some are good, some bad. That’s not the worst. The worst is that there’s a man and a woman near you who are doing everything they can to kill you!”

Yang Yue knew those two must be Feng Huyuan and Xu Linlin.

After a while, the young shaman on video scratched his head sheepishly. “Look, it’s not just about the money. The immortals say this is a big matter. Handling it requires thirteen thousand yuan in offerings, because we’ll need to burn over ninety thousand paper ingots and other items for the ritual. So, you see...”

“That’s fine.” Yang Yue hesitated at the cost, but Xing immediately agreed on her behalf.

On video, over ninety thousand paper ingots and other items were burned. These are gifts to the immortals; to get their help, one must offer bribes to the spirits.

After the ritual, the young shaman asked Yang Yue to pour a cup of white liquor. Daoyuan’s home had some, so he handed her a bowl. The shaman then performed a spell through the video on the liquor, instructing Yang Yue to dab it on all the afflicted spots on her body to draw out the bad energies and heal her ailments.

The video ended, and Daoyuan and the others left, leaving Yang Yue alone in the room. She stripped off her clothes and applied the liquor to the areas causing discomfort. After a while, a warm heat seeped from her skin into her body. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and the pale cheeks caused by illness flushed slightly with a healthy glow. She felt an indescribable relief.

Feeling refreshed, Yang Yue stepped out of the room and saw a woman sitting beside Master Daoyuan. The woman was in her thirties, beautiful and graceful, with a well-proportioned figure. Upon seeing Yang Yue, she rose, nodded slightly, and smiled warmly. “My surname is Su. I’m Daoyuan’s wife, just returned from out of town. You can call me Teacher Su.”

In an instant, Yang Yue’s spiritual insight flickered. A strong and dense green aura radiated from Teacher Su, and her face transformed into one resembling the Guanyin Bodhisattva she had seen in temples.

Startled, Yang Yue wondered if Teacher Su’s primordial spirit was Guanyin Bodhisattva.

Yet, something was different. No—it was Green Tara Bodhisattva, one of Guanyin’s manifestations.

Later, after returning from Qiaocheng, Yang Yue recounted all these events to me for documentation, and I recorded everything thoroughly into the novel outline.

That night, as I turned off the lights to sleep, I suddenly caught a faint scent of sandalwood and flowers. Drawn by the fragrance, I walked forward and arrived at a vast cave-like place. A magnificent woman adorned with necklaces and celestial robes sat cross-legged on a stone inside. Seeing me, she lifted her eyes and smiled gently—a smile both kind and familiar. She called me warmly, “Yuer...”

I was about to call out “Green Tara Bodhisattva,” but the words changed on my tongue to, “Grandmother.”